


snore me to sleep

by wearing_tearing



Series: reality warping [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Minor Sam Wilson/Riley, Neighbors, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3970966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s someone sleeping in the hallway of Bucky’s apartment building.</p><p>Someone big and muscled and blonde and way too fucking attractive to be slumped against the wall and have a jacket covering half of his upper body.</p><p>How does Bucky know this?</p><p>It’s because of the fucking <em>snores.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	snore me to sleep

**Author's Note:**

> yes, i gave up and i gave in.
> 
> based on this au prompt: _i got up at 2 am to get some snacks at the convenience store down the street and opened my door to find you trying to sleep on the floor of the hallway because your roommate has his fiancée over so i guess i’ll lend you my couch for the night AU_ ([x](http://grantere.tumblr.com/post/103436689839/list-of-aus-i-really-need-to-see-written-i-got-up))
> 
> thanks to [whatthehale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehale/pseuds/whatthehale) for the quick read through!

There’s someone sleeping in the hallway of Bucky’s apartment building.

Someone big and muscled and blonde and _way_ too fucking attractive to be slumped against the wall and have a jacket covering half of his upper body.

How does Bucky know this?

It’s because of the fucking _snores_.

*

So, the thing is, Bucky has trouble sleeping.

He doesn’t find himself awake in the middle of the night as often as he did when he first got back from his second tour two years ago, his left arm gone and his head a freaking mess, but sometimes it still happens. He’s pretty sure it always will, to be honest. Nights in his life where he’ll wake up sweaty and panicking from nightmares, where he won’t be able to go to sleep no matter what he does.

People don’t go to war without coming back a little fucked up.

If they come back at all.

So yeah, it’s the middle of the night and Bucky is awake, wishing once again he could have the sleep of the just and pass out for eight hours every night instead of staying up and staring up at his ceiling.

Big fucking news.

He turns his head to check the time, getting annoyed with himself and his brain all over again when he sees the clock marking _3:27am_.

Three hours. He’s been at this for _three hours_ , tossing and turning and getting his hair in his mouth while he tries to go the fuck to _sleep_.

“This isn’t going to work, is it?” Bucky asks himself.

His only answer is the red little numbers of his alarm clock now showing _3:29am._

 _Swell_.

So Bucky sighs, scrubs a hand over his face, and gets up from his warm and soft and _comfortable_ bed. Which he’s not going to be sleeping in tonight, apparently.

He’s been through this enough times that he knows there’s not much that helps when he’s feeling this restless. Going out for a run until he exhausts himself is always a good idea, but he doesn’t feel like running from his problems tonight.

Bucky figures he could always call someone, but he’s not feeling _that_ angry or sad about life to wake someone up at this hour of the morning. As it happens he has stuff he needs to do he’s been kind of avoiding, like folding his laundry and buying groceries and fixing one of the kitchen cabinets that doesn’t close all the way through anymore.

And this is what his life has become: doing chores in the middle of the night because his brain is too wired for him to go to sleep.

“I’m being a responsible adult,” Bucky tells himself as he looks down at the pile of laundry on top of his bedroom chair, like that makes it any better. “Nat would be proud.”

Okay, so maybe it does make it a little bit better.

When he first got back, Nat pretty much asked him if he wanted to move in with her every couple of months. At first, Bucky knows it was because she was worried about leaving him alone - he has to admit he wasn’t exactly doing very well at the time, you know, with the PTSD and trying to adapt to his new prosthetic arm, courtesy of Stark Industries -, but now he knows she does it just because it annoys him. Not that living with Natasha would mean he’d have help him with any of the stuff he has to do, but he just wouldn’t be bored to death whenever he has to pair his socks and fold his undershirts.

Bucky sighs again.

He’s made his bed when he decided to live by himself, so now he has to lie in it.

Heh, bed. Lie in it.

What a _joke_.

*

So, the snoring?

Bucky doesn’t hear it right away.

Which, thank fuck for that. As if he needed _snores_ on top of everything else to keep him awake at night.

In fact, it’s only after Bucky puts all of his clothes away in his closet and pads over to the living room that he notices something’s wrong. Well, not _wrong_ exactly, but just not as it _should_ be at 3:48 in the morning.

After a year and a half, he’s attuned to all of the little noises and cracks that happen at this hour of the morning near his apartment. He’s used to cars driving by and cats fighting in the alley near his building and his upstairs neighbor getting up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

But then he hears it.

The _sound_.

The sound that _does not belong_.

It’s muted, through the walls of his apartment, which only makes Bucky think that wherever the sound it’s coming from, it is _loud as fuck_.

He stops in the middle of his living room, dressed in only his navy sweatpants with little ducks on them, and tilts his head. He strains his ears, trying to figure out the point of origin of whatever this _noise_ is so he can _make it stop_.

Not that it’ll help _him_ sleep, but maybe then he can keep other people from waking up in the middle of the night.

Bucky’s a real pal like that.

*

When Bucky finds it, the source of that horrible fucking noise he’s been listening to, he stops in his tracks.

This isn’t what he was expecting.

And by _this_ he means the _man_ slumped against the hallway wall of Bucky’s apartment floor, snoring so loud that Bucky’s actually impressed he hasn’t woken _himself_ up yet.

Bucky presses his lips together. “I’m going to have to do something about him, aren’t I?”

As usual, when Bucky talks to himself, no one answers.

The man just snores louder.

Bucky scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. He’s been doing that a lot tonight.

He goes back into his apartment,  grabs a couple of blankets and one of the pillows from his bed and puts on a shirt. He refuses to go wake up some stranger while he’s dressed only in his pants, with his new arm and scars in full view. Bucky reserves the sight only for his closest friends. mostly because he knows they won’t run away from him when they see the horrible mess of scar tissue on his shoulder and the glint of his metal arm.

The man is lying almost flat on the ground by the time Bucky comes back, the jacket he has over himself sliding to the floor. That means Bucky has a better view of his face, and he stops to take in the soft angles of this strange person who falls asleep on hallways and snores like he wants to wake up the entire world.

It’s while he’s staring that Bucky realizes he’s seen the guy before. Just a quick flash of him getting in and out of the elevator in the mornings, his profile when Bucky goes to pick up his mail, his broad shoulders when he enters apartment 3D in the afternoon after what Bucky assumes is a full day of work. Bucky doesn’t know the guy’s name, but he knows he’s one of Bucky’s neighbors.

This makes it easier, Bucky thinks. At least now he knows he won’t have to bother about strange people coming inside and the building not being a safe place to live anymore.

Bucky crouches in front of the guy, blowing his hair out of his face when it falls into his eyes. He makes sure to position himself in a way that makes sure he’s not in the line of fire, just in case the guy startles and goes for a punch when Bucky wakes him up.

He knows it’s not everyone who has the same instincts as he does to get up swinging when someone startles him, but he doesn’t want to risk it.

“Hey, buddy,” Bucky says, reaching out a hand and shaking the guy’s shoulder. “‘S time to wake up.”

The guy frowns and smacks his lips, mumbling something before going right back to snoring again.

Of fucking course.

“C’mon,” Bucky says, shaking him again, this time with a bit more strength. “I doubt sleeping like this will be good for your back. Not that you’re listening to me. Because you’re asleep. In the hallway. And snoring loud as _fuck_.”

“Shaddup,” the guy mumbles, trying to swat Bucky’s hand away. But that only makes the guy tip sideways, the sudden change in position startling him so bad he _finally_ snaps his eyes open.

Bucky’s reflexes are still as good as they were when he first enlisted, if not better, so he’s quick to grab the guy by his arms and keep him from falling face first onto the floor.

“What the fuck,” the guy grunts, bringing a hand up to brace himself on Bucky’s left arm.

Bucky twitches. He doesn’t really like people touching him there. Not that the guy seems to even _notice_ Bucky’s arm is not made of flesh, but still.

“Says the guy _sleeping in the hallway_ ,” Bucky replies, and quickly pushes the guy off of him and back against the wall. “I tried waking you up.”

The guy blinks, bright blue eyes glancing straight up at Bucky’s. “Why?”

Bucky makes a face at him. See? This is what he gets when he tries to be a considerate person. “‘Scuse me for not wanting you to get a crick in your neck, pal.”

“Sorry.” The guy runs a hand through his hair, looking sheepish. “My roommate, Sam, has his boyfriend over. I was supposed to go over to our friend’s house, but she wasn’t there.”

“So you thought sleeping in the hallway would be a good idea,” Bucky says flatly.

Honestly. What a _dumbass_.

The guy shrugs. “Seemed like it at the time.”

Bucky makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and stands up. “C’mon.”

“What?” the guy gapes at him. “Where?”

“You can crash on my couch.”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” the guy says, shaking his head. “I can just stay here.”

“No, you can’t,” Bucky says. And then watches in fascination as the guy’s eyes flash and his jaw clenches.

“I can do what I want,” the guy says, as if daring Bucky to tell him otherwise.

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Sure you can, pal. But I’m just tryin’ to get you out of the hallway so you won’t wake anyone else up.”

The look in the guy’s face changes so quickly from defiance to guilt that Bucky is tempted to tell him he hadn’t even gone to bed yet. But he figures if lying will get the guy to get inside his apartment, then that’s what he’ll do.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Bucky shrugs one shoulder. “Not your fault you snore this loud.”

The guy groans as he stands up, the tips of his ears turning red. “I don’t, not really. I’m recovering from a cold, so my breathing’s still all screwed up.”

“Recovering from a cold,” Bucky repeats as they get inside his apartment. “And you were sleeping outside. On the floor. Without any blankets or warm clothes.”

No, really. What a fucking _dumbass_.

“It was either that or listening to my roommate fuck his boyfriend,” the guy sighs. “As much as I like them, I don’t like them _that much_.”

“Well,” Bucky says, lips twitching up in the ghost of a smile. “You can have my couch for the night.”

“Thanks,” the guy says, flashing him a smile. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

He extends a hand, and Bucky is quick to accept it. “I’m Bucky.”

“I know,” the guy - _Steve_ \- says.

Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“Mrs. Goldstein told us about you when we moved in a few months ago,” Steve explains. “She said you were a very nice young man who was very quiet and never complained when Eleanor got into your apartment.”

It’s Bucky’s turn to blush a little, the arch of his cheekbones turning pink. “Eleanor is a nice cat. She doesn’t scratch or tries to smother me in my sleep.”

Contrary to what he can say about Dorothy, Natasha’s tabby cat. The only reason he doesn’t make her disappear is because Natasha would make him regret it.

Steve snorts. “Not you, maybe. Sam and I came away with a few bruises last time we found her in our kitchen.”

Bucky laughs a little, scratching the back of his neck. He feels a little bit awkward now,  doesn’t really know what else to say.

Steve solves that for him, eyes going to the pillow and the blankets on top of the couch. “Thanks for this, really.”

“Don’t mention it,” Bucky says, and raises a hand to stop steve when he opens his mouth. “No, really. Don’t mention it. This way you can make Sam feel guilty about leaving you out alone in cold.”

Steve grins, big and wicked. “I like the way you think.”

“Good night, Steve,” Bucky says, turning around so he can go to his bedroom.

“Good night, Bucky,” Steve answers, loud enough that can Bucky can still hear him. “Sweet dreams.”

*

In the most unforeseen turn of events, Bucky falls asleep.

Somewhere between 4:12am Bucky dozes off, and he’s dead to the world until he wakes up at 9:07 in the morning. To the smell of _pancakes_ , of all things.

Is this a dream? Bucky thinks to himself as he blinks sleepily. Or is he so fucking sleep deprived he started hallucinating breakfast?

He still doesn’t feel all that in touch with reality when he pads to the kitchen and finds _Steve_ there, flipping pancakes and singing under his breath. He’s even wearing Bucky’s _Keep your hands off my buns_ apron, for fuck’s sake.

Bucky can’t really help it when his eyes go straight to Steve’s ass at that, which, huh.

That’s-

Bucky clears his throat, feeling a little hot under his pjs.

“Oh, hi!” Steve turns around at the noise, all smiles and good mood. “Thought I could make you breakfast as a thanks for last night. Hope you don’t mind.”

“You didn’t use my food, did you?” Bucky asks. “Because then that’d kinda defeat the purpose.”

Steve makes a face at him.

Bucky suddenly has a feeling Steve’s calling _him_ a dumbass in his head.

“I got supplies from home,” Steve tells him. “But speaking of which, I checked your fridge. You only have half a gallon of milk and a moldy orange. You should really go grocery shopping.”

Bucky glares at him. “That’s what I was gonna do before I found your ass sleeping in the middle of the hallway.”

“You grocery shop at three in the morning?” Steve turns to him, surprised.

“I keep odd hours.” Bucky shrugs, his right hand coming to his left shoulder.

Steve’s eyes follow the movement, and Bucky tenses.

“Sam’s boyfriend, Riley, has a prosthetic leg that looks just like that,” Steve says. “So, you know, don’t worry about it.”

“Kinda hard not to, sometimes,” Bucky mutters, but relaxes a little. “So Riley and Sam are the reason you were out.”

“Yup,” Steve nods, and then smiles, looking proud of himself. “They’re also the reason I’m getting free dinner tonight.”

Bucky shakes his head, lips curling up. “Good for you.”

“Want to come with?” Steve asks, placing a stack of pancakes in front of Bucky.

“To dinner?”

When Bucky looks up at Steve is to see him shifting on his feet, his arms falling awkwardly against his sides.

“Well, yeah,” Steve says, his ears and the back of his neck a bright pink. “It’s because of you I’m going out, anyway. And you gave me a place to crash, so.”

“I thought the pancakes were already a thank you for that,” Bucky says, raising an eyebrow. If he’s being honest, he’s enjoying watching Steve squirm.

“Right,” Steve deflates, clearing his throat. “Okay, nevermind then.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to go,” Bucky says quickly, surprising himself a little. It’s been a considerable time - five months - since he tried to go out with someone who wasn’t his friend - Natasha -, so it’s a bit weird to know he actually _wants_ to go out and have dinner with Steve.

“So what are you saying?” Steve asks, eyes glued to his.

“Are Sam and Riley going to be there?”

Steve swallows, shaking his head. “Thought it’d be just us.”

Bucky lets himself smile, slow and pleased. “Sounds good.”

*

It is good.

In fact, it is _really fucking good_.

So good that Bucky doesn’t even mind when Steve falls and asleep and starts snoring after Bucky fucks him hard and deep.

Instead, Bucky just snuggles close, tucks his head under Steve’s chin and falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> so, for those of you who don't know: i have a [marvel blog](http://hawkguyz.tumblr.com/)! that's where i'll be posting all marvel/stucky related stuff, if you're interested in following :D


End file.
